


A Symphony of Nightmares

by EveryAlternateEnding



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Joey Drew, Jealousy, Joey Drew being a Jerk, M/M, Physical Abuse, Transformation, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24589726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryAlternateEnding/pseuds/EveryAlternateEnding
Summary: Joey Drew has long wanted someone to share his life and his dreams with- it's something he'd longed for since Henry had left. But that doesn't matter now, because Sammy is even better. Sammy is his kindred spirit, and loves even the darkest parts of him. And Joey is never letting this one get away.Entrapped but in love, Sammy sees few options but to accept his current situation- no matter what it costs him.
Relationships: Joey Drew/Sammy Lawrence
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Just to make sure you're mine

It was December 23rd, and Sammy and Joey were staying at the studio after hours to put together a little workplace Christmas party.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Joey said as they finished up. “Usually I have Wally help me, but you know you’re always my first choice.”

Sammy blushed. Joey really knew how to make a man feel special. “No problem. It’s probably good damage control for my reputation, y’know, because…”

“Oh, stop bringing that up. Here, I brought you something.” Joey handed Sammy a lovely little present with powder blue and mint green wrapping- Sammy’s favourite colours. Inside of it were many things, the first being a matching green and blue card. The card read,

Dear Sammy,

In the past months since we started dating, you have been proven many things to me. You have proven that you share my artistic mind, as well as some of my more obscure interests. More importantly, you have proven, or at least, almost proven, that you’re someone I can trust with my heart and my vision. You are the perfect person for me, perhaps moreso than anyone I’ve ever met, and I think it’s time that I fully bring you into my life. No more distrust. No more punishments. Fewer rules. Just love. Please meet me at Joey Drew Studios tomorrow and we can discuss how.

-Your loving partner, Joey Drew.

Two keys were taped to the inside of the card, and the box also contained some candy and cocoa, a beautiful notebook with a musical note motif for writing songs, and a small bottle of ink with a note taped to it reading “bring tomorrow.”

“Wow. This is really nice. But, are you going to explain the ink? And the keys?”

“Well-“ In that moment, there was a knock at the door. “Oh, the guests are here!”

“Okay, I guess we can talk later. And then you can open your present.” With that, Sammy gave Joey a peck on the cheek and went to answer the door.

Before long, a few dozen employees had arrived, and were having a jolly good time at the party. Sammy Lawrence was enjoying himself as well, but half of him was concentrated on being good, making sure not to seem too warm to anyone Joey, had made off-limits. The wound in on Sammy’s arm still burned from last night, when Joey had taken a lit match to it as a punishment for making him jealous. On his surface, Joey was a man anyone would want in their lives, always full of inspiration and cheer. Behind closed doors, however, his temper and his fear of losing anyone he found himself attached to led Joey Drew to be… a very intense partner would be one way to put it. Sammy had found that out too late. And he felt addicted to Joey, and all the love and excitement and inspiration he brought into Sammy’s life. But Sammy was also deathly afraid of him.

Considering the ink bottle again, Sammy slipped out to head for his sanctuary. The motions of unlocking it, complicated as they were, were automatic to him by now. Finally alone in the dark, Sammy reflected on how this relationship had come to be.

—-

It had started about seven months ago, when Joey had first asked him out to dinner. They had essentially talked the entire night about their shared passion for the arts. At first, Sammy had thought it was stupid. Sammy couldn’t exactly say so in front of his boss, but Joey didn’t make art- he made stupid kid’s shorts. And even apart from that, Sammy had plenty of bones to pick with Joey as a boss. But as the night wore on, Sammy realized that Joey’s appreciation for art was genuine, and came to respect him a little more. He was pleasant enough when he wasn’t busy being a terrible boss. At Sammy’s door, he’d handed him an unlabelled black book. Sammy still remembered Joey’s exact words: “I want you to borrow this. Check it out a bit. I’ve tried some of the activities in it, and well, they really work! The world is wider than you can imagine Sammy, and I want someone to explore it with. You’re a man of passion. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Well, Sammy did look into that tome of Satanic rituals. And he did go to Joey to see them actually work.

It wasn’t too long, maybe two months, before Sammy found himself waiting in an area of town he’d never been to before. It was a poor-looking area, it was getting dark, and he was getting nervous. Joey Drew had always insisted that they meet in a different place every time, for secrecy’s sake. Joey had been late that night, and it was spitting rain. Even so, Sammy, normally irritable, was calm. He took another drag on his cigarette, looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time, and propped himself against the brick wall behind him in attempt to look like he belonged in the rough part of town. He was used to this.

Amazing. He, the wimpy, white-collared Sammy Lawrence, was used to waiting around in strange, quiet areas for the opportunity to practice the occult. What Joey had shown him that first night would have converted the most cynical heart. Sammy had never been an atheist, but nor was he especially dedicated to religion- just a churchgoer who seldom thought about the supernatural any time but Sunday mornings. That night, however, he had seen it proven before his eyes that powers beyond his imagination- indeed, beyond the imagination of Christianity or any other religion he knew of, were very real, and very much entwined with the mortal world.

How had that turned into this? Sammy couldn’t answer that. Joey had invited him over a second time, let him help with a few rituals performed in his house. Then he lent Sammy a different book so that he could figure out what he wanted to do with his newfound powers. There was no point when his coming over had become an intentional weekly tradition, it just had. And then it came to the point where it wasn’t just once a week, but generally multiple evenings that Sammy put into his new hobby. There were supplies to collect, secluded areas to find, and evidence to dispose of. Before he knew it, he was the one suggesting that the two of them go to the woods at night for the first spell involving animal sacrifice that either had ever performed. And beyond that, the candlelit dinners, the sex, the getting drunk and having deep conversations in the woods, the talk as though they were running the studio together- Sammy wondered at when on earth they’d become a couple, and when Joey had become such a big part of his life. Not that Sammy wasn’t enjoying it- Joey might have been a terrible boss, but Sammy was greatly enjoying his personal company.

There were things about Joey that bothered him, though, even then. Six weeks into their relationship, Joey had caught Sammy chatting warmly with Jack in the music room, and had grabbed all but dragged Sammy to his office, holding his wrist tightly enough to leave marks.

“What are you doing, making kissy eyes at the biggest fruit in the studio like that?” Joey had demanded. His fists were curled, and Sammy’s pulse picked up, even though he found the scenario ridiculous.

“I wasn’t making kissy eyes at him. We’re best friends, that’s it,” Sammy halfway snapped. Then, he felt a fist slam into his stomach. His back hit the wall, and Joey held him against it, fist cocked back for a second blow.

“Really?” Joey growled.

“Yes, really! He’s married, I promise,” Sammy cried. Joey let go of him.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll be asking him to make sure, but if you’re telling the truth, I’m sorry. Can we still be partners?”

Sammy hesitated. This is the exact behaviour anyone would tell him to break up with someone over.

A desperate, touchy look fell over Joey’s face. “Keep in mind that it’s all or nothing. I’m not practicing Satanism or lending my books to anyone I can’t trust, one hundred and ten percent.”

“Yeah, let’s stay partners.”

“Good. Maybe we should set some rules so this never happens again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay. Well, how’s about a rule about who you can talk to. Anyone related to you or married is fine, of course, or if they’ve been in a relationship for a while that’s okay. And so are straight men- don’t think you can cheat this rule, though, I always know. And I know you had a thing with Susie Campbell, so I don’t want you talking to single women, either, alright? And especially not Allison Pendle. I can tell she’s a total slut.”

Sammy found the whole thing pretty weird, but he wasn’t at the point of protesting just yet. Satanism meant to much to him. He and Susie weren’t exactly amicable exes anyhow. “Okay. And my rule is that you don’t hit me.”

“Deal,” Joey said, reaching out for a handshake. Sammy returned it firmly. “I love you, alright? I don’t want to hurt you, so keep up your side for me.”

“Right. I love you,” Sammy said, too much hesitation in his voice. “I love you,” he tried again. It was firmer but still didn’t sound quite right.

—-

When had been the next time Joey had hit him? Sammy couldn’t remember. His mind kept traveling back to his first real, hard beating, and that reminded him that he needed to get back to the party and give Wally Franks his present.

Sammy had been storing Wally’s present in his sanctuary all day, which made it pretty convenient now. Hopefully Wally was ready to forgive him. Back in the break room with everyone else around, Sammy tapped Wally on the shoulder while he was talking to Susie.

“Huh? Uh, hey Sammy… What is it…?” Wally’s awkward smile was reminiscent of a cringing puppy who’d been caught red-handed.

“I brought something for you.”

“Thanks.” Wally took the box and lifted its lid. “A chocolate cake. That’s real considerate.”

“Yeah. Remember the time you ate my chocolate cake right out of its box when I left it in my office?” Sammy took care to sound good-natured about that. “You looked so shocked when I walked in on you. We’ve has some pretty funny moments, haven’t we?”

“Ha ha, yeah, ah guess. Look, I don’t wanna offend you but I don’t feel comfortable takin’ this. Sorry for avoiding you, though. I’ll try to stop.”

Sammy’s face fell. “Okay, I get it.”

With that, Wally handed him back the box and walked (a little too fast) back into the crowd.

“Sorry,” Susie said. “He told me that he forgives you, but y’know. He was scared of you even before the… incident… and he’s having trouble being comfortable with you again. If it helps, I want to be friends again. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now, so why keep avoiding each other?”

Because Susie was high on Joey’s list of people he couldn’t talk to. “I’ll think about it, alright Susie?” Sammy said, businesslike, before going to look for Joey. All he could think was how pathetic Wally was. Really, avoiding him like this after one little punch to the face?

—-

It was early November, and Sammy was in his office, attempting to focus on songwriting. If he let his mind stray, it inevitably strayed to the night before, when Joey had beaten him until he bled. And yet, he didn’t feel scared or tearful. Instead, he was furious.

There were no two ways about it, leaving this relationship would be risky on multiple fronts, and Sammy wasn’t sure he could do it. The most obvious was that Joey could- and likely would- fire him. As well, Sammy was enthralled enough with Satanism that he was just about willing to be beaten if it meant he didn’t have to give it up. And, of course, there was the issue that Joey might beat him to a pulp for breaking up- maybe even kill him.

God, Sammy had been so stupid! Why had he thought that it was a good idea to be in a relationship with his boss? Why had he thought he could work the magic of the devil himself without becoming so intoxicated? Why was he allowing himself to be mistreated like this? Why was he such a-

A knock on the door interrupted Sammy’s internal rant. Probably some idiot needing to use the pump switch. Sammy got up and opened the door to see Wally Franks.

“Hey, Mr. Lawrence. You sure look angry.” There was a slightly apologetic tone to Wally’s voice, and Sammy immediately knew what he was there for: some keys to borrow so that could retrace his steps and find his own. Growling, Sammy snatched the keys from his pocket, threw them at Wally, and turned back to his desk.

“…You okay?” Wally asked hesitantly, slowly approaching the angered musician. “That’s a pretty dark-lookin’ bruise you got under your collar there-“

In that moment, Sammy lost all self-control and swung his fist into Wally’s jaw, knocking a tooth out and two others loose. The action shocked Sammy as much as it did Wally.

“Oh my God. Wally, I’m sorry! Can I take you to the infirmary?”

Wally whimpered a no and left Sammy’s office with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Sammy was frozen in shock. He knew he was in trouble, and he supposed he deserved to be. After a couple minutes of waiting for the other shoe to drop, he went back to his sheet music as a distraction. Sammy wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Joey took a seat opposite to him. Sammy couldn’t quite look Joey in the eyes.

“So, you hit him,” Joey began, his voice somber. “I’d be a hypocrite to fire you, and I wouldn’t want to do that to my main man, anyways. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to give a public apology to Wally, with me there to mediate. I’ve offered Wally a raise to keep his mouth shut about this to the police. Of course, if this does get out, I’m going to have to let you go for the company’s sake, but until then, I’m going to do everything I can to keep you hired and out of jail. That’s a promise.” Joey gave Sammy a pat on the shoulder, and Sammy winced. “Oops, did I hit a bruise?” Sammy nodded. Joey patted him on the arm instead before leaving.

Once he’d had the time to collect his thoughts, Sammy realized that there was no breaking up with Joey for now- not while this was still fresh in everyone’s memories and he still needed Joey’s protection. But by the time it felt safe to risk making Joey angry, Sammy didn’t want to break up anymore. By then, the beating seemed like an eternity ago, and his most recent memories of Joey were positive. I mean, yes, he did get the occasional punch, burn, or threat, but by then Sammy was used to it. And Sammy had hit Wally- maybe a bit of a temper was just something men of passion like them had. He’d even struck Joey once or twice, and Joey had handled it like a sport. Really, Wally was being such a baby over one punch. Sammy could remember Jack knocking on his door to ask for use of his keys several times in the past couple weeks, and he had no doubt that he was just fetching them for Wally. It was the only time Jack spoke to him now, and he, like a lot of Sammy’s coworkers, had gone cold on him. It had been kind of lonely, especially since a lot of Sammy’s old friends from outside the studio were now off-limits.

At least he had Joey. Maybe they were the only people capable of handling each other.

—

Sammy didn’t even know what Joey wanted from him, so he supposed the best way to figure out if he should agree to it was to go to the little meeting Joey had arranged and to hear him out. So, here he was, at the entrance of Joey Drew Studios with that bottle of ink clutched in his hand. Joey greeted him with a “Merry Christmas Eve!” and a kiss on the lips. They got into the elevator together and Joey sent them down to the very basement.

“So, Sammy. I know our relationship hasn’t exactly been perfect. And I want it to be perfect. I honestly do! I think you’re the perfect partner for me. I don’t want to have to tell you who not to talk to. I don’t want to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to leave me. So, it’s time that I addressed some problems in our relationship. First, I’m sensing that you have some resentment towards me at work, because of the ink machine.”

“Well, yes,” Sammy admitted. “I mean, it’s a thorn in everyone’s side and no one knows what it’s for!”

“Well, I don’t want it to inconvenience you. One of the keys I gave you is for the finance manager’s office. You can switch offices with him after Christmas so you won’t have to deal with the pump switch anymore. And I can tell you what the ink machine does if you just make a promise with me.”

“I’m listening...”

Joey slipped a small bottle of ink that matched Sammy’s out his pocket. “This ink machine could be the next step in our ventures into the occult, Sammy. We should both give ourselves over to it, see what role it chooses for us both. If you can do that with me, well, I’ll be able to trust you entirely. I’ll let you talk to whoever you want, and I’ll never hit you again. In a couple weeks or whenever’s convenient, you could even move in with me. What do you say?”

Sammy had heard the “I’ll never hit you again” line before, but he’d never heard Joey even suggest letting him talk to anyone. “You’ll let me talk to Susie?” Sammy asked.

“Why?” Joey spat, suddenly defensive.

“She forgives me for… you know, Wally. She wants to be friends again. That’s all.”

“Oh, okay. I suppose so.”

Sammy turned the ink bottle in his hands. The long nights they’d spent preparing spells that went horribly wrong, getting drunk, complaining and laughing about the other workers, the sex, the conversations. Was it worth the bad? Especially if it could get better? Sammy uncorked the bottle. “I’ll do it.”

Joey uncorked his bottle. “Thank you. And cheers!”

They clinked their ink bottles and threw them back. For Sammy, it was a bittersweet, salty, viscous liquid that he could barely choke down. For Joey it was as sweet as syrup. Immediately after they were done, Joey showed Sammy to the inside of the ink machine. Suddenly, Sammy wondered if downing the ink was actually symbolic. What would happen to him now? Would it be worth it? Joey loved him. Joey wouldn’t want harm to come to him. He’d have to trust that it was worth it.


	2. Just a Little Toxic

It was three weeks after downing the ink, and Sammy felt like hell. He supposed that it was just the ink doing whatever it had to for its cause, but right now, it seemed to want to give him a stabbing headache and tie his stomach in knots. It didn’t used to be this bad- he used to just feel like this, or least, almost this ill- after eating. Now- well, he’d have trouble keeping anything down. He would have gone for medical attention a week ago, and had run the idea by Joey, but Joey said that if he did that, they might be able to figure out their secrets. Sammy supposed he was right.

Sammy’s mind was swimming. He could almost hear voices coming from that nasty pipe in his new office. Did this song he was writing even make sense? Sammy then realized that he was writing musical notes over the ordering form he had been filling out before he spaced out. If not medical attention, maybe he could use a day in the infirmary.

There was a knock at the door to his office. It was Norman. “Yes?” Sammy asked weakly.

Norman brushed hair from his eyes and allowed himself to take in Sammy’s appearance. He looked so tired and sick that it hurt to look at. “Sammy,” Norman said in a grave voice. “Can you meet me after work?”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you seriously about something.”

“Why can’t we do it here?”

Norman peered over his shoulder, closed the door and whispered, “I suppose we could, if you think it’s safer. Will _he_ be okay with it?”

Sammy glared at him with all the force he could muster. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I can do whatever I want.”

Norman nodded, disbelieving. “Sure, okay. Promise me you’ll be there. Here’s my address.” He handed Sammy a sheet of paper. “Right after work, okay?”

“Fine,” Sammy sighed. He was too tired to make fight out of it. Norman turned to leave. “Wait,” Sammy said. “Do you see faint words on the walls here? Like ink that couldn’t quite be scrubbed off?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God.” At least now, Sammy could be sure that he wasn’t seeing things.

Shortly after Norman left, Sammy went down to the infirmary for the rest of the day.

—-

The bastard stole his keys! Sammy wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but Norman had taken the keys right out of his pocket. Well, Sammy might have skipped meeting Norman otherwise, but now he had no choice. So, he followed the address and ended up on Norman’s doorstep. Norman opened the door before Sammy got the chance to knock.

“Come in,” Norman said gravely.

“Give me back my keys,” Sammy growled.

“After. Come in.”

Sammy obeyed. Norman’s house was nice enough, he supposed, although the wall with dozens of photos of people taped to it was disconcerning. Sammy even saw a picture of himself on it. Without even looking at him, Norman pointed to an armchair. Sammy sat down in it, and Norman disappeared to the kitchen and came back a second later with two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to Sammy.

“What are you doing?” Sammy asked.

“Making you comfortable,” Norman answered.

 _No, you’re not,_ Sammy wanted to yell, but he settled for giving Norman a weird look.

“Sorry, I’m not good with new people. But anyhow, I wanted to talk to you because I know you’re in a relationship with Joey Drew, and I’ve seen that you’re not half yourself lately. How is he treating you?”

“Fine,” Sammy snapped.

Norman got up and pretended to swing at Sammy. His fist ended up almost a foot from where Sammy was, but Sammy ended up curled into a whimpering ball, his hands protecting his face and his coffee sprayed across the floor.

“I don’t think you’re fine.”

“You know what? You’re making a ton of assumptions, here. Joey is the best thing that ever happened to me! Maybe my dad beat me, and that’s why I cowered like that. Maybe I’m just jumpy in general. Maybe _you’re_ just that freaky! Ever think of that? You can’t prove anything! And even if you could, why would you care?”

Norman sat back down. “Sorry. Can I tell you why I care?”

“Will you give me my keys back afterwards?”

Norman sighed. “So, the reason that I care is that I think I saw my best friend go through the same process. You’re familiar with the finance manager, now that you’re in his office, right?”

As a head-of-department, Sammy had had a few run-ins with the finance manager over the years, but hadn’t bothered to learn his name until they’d switched offices. “Toby?”

“No, the one before him. Grant Cohen.”

“Don’t know him.”

“Well, he was also in a relationship with Joey Drew. I remember how happy he was when Joey finally made it official. Before then, he had thought all he was to Joey was a toy. After that, though… well, I could sense things were going wrong, but I never said anything. I watched Joey treat him like property, and I never said a word… Months later, he gives me a call at eight at night, asking to come over. He shows up with cracked glasses, a bloody nose, and a hand-shaped bruise across his face. I was with him when he made that phone call to break up with Joey and give his two weeks’ notice. Honestly, I thought giving him that much was too much, but Grant wanted the severance package. Well, he disappeared less than two weeks later, and I was left wishing that I’d said something before it escalated like that. And now I’m looking at this small, scared, worn-down version of Sammy Lawrence who’s also in a relationship with Joey Drew, and this time I don’t want to keep my mouth shut.”

Sammy was in silence for nearly a minute. “Joey never treated me like a toy,” Sammy mused. “From day one, he treated me like someone who he really respected and wanted in his life. And he would never hit me in the face. I wonder what Grant did to deserve that…” he was just thinking aloud, but now Sammy realized how insensitive it sounded. And yet, Norman, didn’t seem offended.

“I never said your relationship was exactly the same. And you have bruises, Sammy.”

“I- what?” That couldn’t be right. Joey hadn’t beaten him in over a week. And yet, Sammy looked down and saw that his arms were covered in dark splotches, like there was a black substance trapped under his skin. He started hyperventilating. “This isn’t from Joey.”

“Sammy…”

“No, it’s worse. It’s ink. Joey and I downed ink together.”

“Ink? How are you even alive?!”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s not deadly. Just… just a little toxic. I don’t know what it’s going to do to me, Norman. Joey and I are supposed to go through this together, but it’s making me so sick and I-I’m scared.”

Norman came over and hugged Sammy, hoping that he’d stop shaking. “Shh… it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

After they separated, Sammy said, “Listen, Joey isn’t going to kill me. But… maybe he is a little toxic. But he’s given me things that you can’t even understand. And I think I can take him. I think I can take,” Sammy looked down at his arms, “this.”

Norman wasn’t sure what to say. This was all so much stranger than he’d thought. “Well, I can’t make you leave him. But if the toxicity ever gets to be too much to handle, just know that I’m here, alright? Tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thank you.”

“Here’s your keys.”

—-

Right after the run-in with Norman, Sammy had been annoyed- mostly at himself for being so weak and selling out his partner like that, but also at Norman for putting him in that situation in the first place. Over the next few days, though, he began to think he had the right idea. Those three days had been rough- Sammy was spending almost as much time resting in the infirmary as he did working. The inky “bruises” were growing. At home, Joey was good about handling things around the house while Sammy rested. He’d been sympathetic to Sammy, since, for some reason, downing the was barely affecting Joey at all.

“I guess the ink just has different plans for us,” he’d said, “I guess we’ll just have to trust the process. Trust that it knows what’s best.”

Sammy wanted to trust the process. Wanted there to be a point in this. But he was also scared. His last straw was when he first noticed the veins extending from his bruises turning black. The thought of those painful areas spreading all over his body…

The morning four days after Norman’s intervention, Sammy got up at four in the morning and slipped out to visit the emergency room, where he was taken in, stripped down, and observed by a flurry of doctors who had no idea what was wrong with him. One nurse carefully pierced one of his “bruises,” which looked more like ink-filled warts at this point, and took the substance in for analysis, as well as taking a blood sample.

“Well, there’s enough… ink, or at least a biological substance with the appearance and scent of ink, in your body to kill a dozen men through ink poisoning,” the doctor said. “We should really test this further.”

“No!” Please, just treat me.” Sammy pleaded. Joey would kill him if the public found out the truth.

“But you could have some underlying issue. And this… ailment… has never been seen before. What if it’s contagious? Researching it would be a matter of public health.”

Sammy wanted to cry. “I beg of you. Just treat me the best you can. You can’t use me as a test subject without permission, right? If you can’t treat me without tests, I’ll just have to leave.”

The doctor gave him the most sympathetic look. “I suppose if it’s between that and treating you the best we can, we’ll treat you, if you’ll sign a waiver. So, here’s what we can do. We can burst the skin deposits with a sterile needle to get the ink out, then flush the areas with strong antibiotics. We’ll also have you take some oral antibiotics. Then, we’re going to have to put you through blood transfusions. My guess is that it will take ten hours a day for three days to get your blood healthy again. There’s a whole lot of gunk in it.”

Sammy froze. Three days. How would he hide this from Joey? “Oh, okay. Let’s do it.” He’d figure that out later. He _needed_ treatment.

Sammy was taken to another room, where nurses burst the inky tumours. It hurt. But having less ink in him was a relief- all that built-up pressure under his skin had been painful. After that procedure, it was late enough in the morning that Joey would be at work, and Sammy went out to make two phone calls. The first was to Joey Drew.

“Joey, it’s Sammy Lawrence,” he began cautiously.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? YOU’D BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS OR I SWEAR TO GOD THERE WON’T BE ANYTHING LEFT FOR THE DOCTORS TO SEW BACK TOGETHER.”

The response was about level with Sammy’s expectations. “I do have an explanation. My aunt is sick, and I went to the Michigan hospital to see her. I got the phone call about three and a half hours ago, and I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. No, I’m sorry for assuming the worst, and about your aunt. Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Alright. I love you. Bye. And uh, it might be a few days before she recovers, or, you know…”

“Right. Take care.”

The second phone call was to Norman’s place.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered. Of course, Sammy realized. Norman would be at work.

“Hey. It’s Sammy. Did Norman tell you about me?”

“You’re the one who’s in an abusive relationship with Joey Drew?”

Sammy sighed. Norman really had no respect for privacy whatsoever, but he wasn’t in a position to reject his help over that. “It’s just a little toxic. But, yeah. And I need help. Could I have a place to sleep tonight?”

“Sure,” she said in the warmest voice.

“Thank you.”

It was about 8:30 when Sammy was through with the blood transfusions that day and had arrived at Norman’s home.

“Thank you so much,” Sammy said. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t come here. I need to be gone from Joey for three days, and my old apartment is already on the housing market. I can call my brother about tomorrow night, but…”

“Woah, hold up,” Norman interjected. “You’re going back to him?”

“The problem isn’t our relationship. I’m just getting some medical attention that he wouldn’t approve of. That’s all. Here, here’s where they were doing blood transfusions on me.” Sammy showed them the pinprick on his arm.

Norman looked at Sammy with pity, a look that he was rapidly getting used to. “Okay. You can stay here tonight, and tomorrow night, too. Have you had dinner yet?”

“I’m good. Look, I’m really tired. Can I…?”

“Of course. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

Before Sammy went to bed, he took a good look in the bathroom mirror. No wonder people were giving him all those pitying looks- he looked like he belonged on the street. His hair looked bristly and was stained with ink. His skin was stained as well, and was covered in sores, a couple even on his face, from bursting the ink tumours this morning. He hadn’t eaten in over a week and hadn’t eaten normally for some time before that. Maybe that’s why his skin looked so sickly pale. Maybe he really should eat something for his health’s sake. The crazy thing was that he didn’t even feel hungry- whatever the ink had him destined for, it must have wanted him to be immune to starvation.

_The ink… it wants something for me… why am I messing up its plan?_

In bed, Sammy tortured himself with that question. Why was he going against Joey like this? They were supposed to handle this, and whatever the ink brought them, together. And how on earth was he going to explain the medical bills to Joey? And the burst tumours? The thought of Joey’s fists coming down on all those tender sores until they bled, Joey shoving his fingers into them as punishment… it made Sammy want to run away. Thankfully, Sammy was very tired, so it wasn’t too long before he was asleep.

Two days later, it was time for Sammy to go home. He showed up at eleven pm. “Hey,” Joey said gently. “How was it? Did your aunt recover?”

Sammy was pretty scared, so he went with the option that would explain why he was upset. “No.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It was nice for you to have us pay some of her hospital bills.”

Sammy’s eyes went wide. Did Joey actually think that’s what they were? “Yeah… ha ha.” Sammy walked past him. He was going to leave it there, but he couldn’t. He turned back to Joey. “Please don’t hurt me! I was desperate, alright? I love her!”

Joey looked genuinely surprised. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I mean, I wish you’d contacted me about it, but it was life or death!” Joey spread his arms, “Come here.”

Sammy returned the hug. Joey started stroking his hair. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know it’s late, but do you want to get wasted? It’s Friday, so we can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Could Sammy even drink anymore? It had been a while since he’d tried.

Sammy fetched a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. Cautiously, Sammy sipped from it. It went down fine- no sputtering on it, no disgust with the taste, no stomach ache. In that moment, Sammy realized that despite the recent blood transfusions, he felt healthier than he had since shortly after his infection. Maybe he really was all better.

“Someone’s happy,” Joey teased. Sammy then realized that he was wearing a big, dopey smile.

“Would you call me crazy if I said I feel better than I have in weeks? Come on, let’s make love, already!” One more thing he’d been too sick to do until now.

Sammy immediately regretted that as Joey began unbuttoning his shirt. The ink sores- he’d forgotten about the ink sores. “Wait. Stop. I changed my mind!”

It was too late, though. “Sex can wait,” Joey said darkly, his eyes focused on the sores on his chest, “but this shirt is coming off.” After undoing the last button, Joey threw the shirt to the side and circled around to look at his back. “Reach for your back. I want to see how far you can reach.”

Too scared to do anything else, Sammy obeyed. There was a long, horrible silence before Joey pushed Sammy onto the floor and held him down by his shoulders. “Explain the wounds.”

Sammy started sobbing.

“EXPLAIN THEM DAMNIT! DON’T MAKE ME MAKE YOU!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sammy exclaimed between sobs. “I was so sick! I just wanted-” Sammy was cut off by a punch to his genitals, followed by several more to his chest and stomach. Joey was sitting on his legs, so he all he could do was cover his face and hope Joey would wear himself out eventually.

When Joey was finally finished, he was panting from anger and exertion. “I can’t believe you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I messed with the ink’s plan for us. We were supposed to face it together, and I failed you. I’m so sorry.”

Joey laughed. “If that’s all it were, I’d be happy. I didn’t know that the ink was going to make you this miserable. I don’t like seeing you like that. No. What you did was jeopardize our secrets. Imagine what’s going to happen now that some hospital knows about the supernatural ink!” Joey’s fists curled. “We could both go to jail! I oughta-”

“Joey, wait! The only problem is a hospital finding out? Well, that’s good, because I never got help from a hospital. My sister is the one who helped me cut them off, honest! So it’s okay. It’s all okay, right?!”

“Oh! Oh,” Joey got up off of him. “Yes, of course it’s okay. I’m sorry about all that. Do you need some ice?”

Sammy nodded. After Joey had fetched him the ice, they made love and then turned in for the night. It had hurt thanks to all the bruises and wounds, but Sammy felt like he owed it to Joey for all of the trouble and lies. And as much as it hurt, it was still better than being ink sick. At least that was over.

—-

But it wasn’t over. The ink might have been removed from Sammy’s skin and what was left of his circulatory system, but nearly all his internal organs were gone, eaten, disintegrated. That’s why he was able to drink without a problem- there was no esophagus to reject the wine, and no stomach to ache. The ink was still deep inside of him, growing.

—-

The middle of the next afternoon, Sammy was still in bed, and Joey decided to check on him. Maybe he was taking the death of his aunt harder than it had seemed, and if so, Joey figured he ought to be there for him.

“Hey, Sammy. You up?” he asked to a completely-covered Sammy. No response. He tried shaking him gently, but again, no response. With his hands on him now, Joey realized that Sammy wasn’t breathing. He tore off the blanket to reveal the absolute horror beneath.

It was Sammy, alright. Same blue eyes, dead still and with ink and blood coming out of the sockets, leaving trails over purple skin. It was as though there were only an inch of human left overtop of the ink. Less in some places, where those dark tumours had returned. He even smelled like ink. Though still in a trancelike-state, Sammy reached weakly for the blanket. It was at this moment that Joey realized that Sammy was as cold as a corpse.

“Oh my God. I’m so, so sorry that I did this to you.” And Joey was. He’d had the perfect partner- one who had loved him despite knowing everything about him. And he’d let his insecurity, his lust for control, ruin him. If he could have chosen between having Henry back at his side or taking back the moment when he’d had Sammy drink that ink, he wouldn’t have hesitated to save Sammy’s life.

Joey spent the rest of the day caring for Sammy the best he could- feeding him soup, giving him hot water bottles and blankets to keep him warm, cleaning him up when he coughed up ink, keeping him company. For a little while, Sammy seemed to perk up a bit, and even tried to speak, though his voice was incomprehensibly thick with ink. By nightfall, though, Joey was convinced that Sammy was gone.

Joey gathered Sammy up into a plastic garbage bag, drove him to the studio, and left him in a supply closet in the very basement where Joey was sure no one would find him.

—-

The next thing Sammy was aware of was how cold he was. He reached for the blankets, but his hand found plastic. “What?!” Sammy said aloud. “I can- I can speak.” Somehow that surprised him. He stood up from the untied garbage bag and immediately stumbled on his own feet.

_Where am I? …This looks like the ink machine. How did I get here?”_

All Sammy could remember was a delirious haze of laying in bed and Joey doting on him. Suddenly he remembered the last thing Joey had said to him.

_“It’s gonna be alright. Remember all those magical nights we had together, running around in the woods, trying things we shouldn’t, getting drunk, talking about our passions, acting them out? We had so much fun. I’m gonna give you some time to think about everything else you appreciated in life, alright? But I’ll be here until the very end. That’s a promise.”_

Sammy quickly realized that that was how you spoke to a dying man. Was he dead? He didn’t feel dead. On extremely unsteady legs, Sammy dragged himself off to a reflective metal surface. His feet and lower calves were like unmoving stumps on the ends of his legs. Inky blackness dominated his torso and had spread up his limbs and neck. Trying to touch his nose, Sammy realized why he was so unsteady- he could no longer move the parts of him that weren’t ink yet. The only reason he could even speak was the ink he had spat up and infected his mouth and jaw with earlier.

There was nothing for Sammy to do but sit down and watch the last of his humanity fade away. Watch and bawl tears of ink until his eyes were gone. Watch as ink was excreted from his remaining pores like sweat, engulfing his flesh. Joey had promised to be there for the end of his life. Maybe he’d even meant it. Joey had meant all his promises, really. All those promises to stop abusing him. But in the end, Joey was just a little too toxic to follow through.

—-

The following evening, Joey came down to the giant ink machine. It would be hard going on with this without his loyal partner, but duty called.

Then, as he was making his way to the inner chamber, Joey nearly tripped over something unexpected: a somewhat muscular humanoid made of ink, curled up in fetal position on the cold metal floor. All of his subjects were supposed to be locked up! How could this have happened?! Unless…

“Sammy…?”

Sammy turned his head to Joey and nodded, whimpering.

Joey picked Sammy up in his arms. “You’re alive. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you… but I’ll think of something. That’s a promise.”

A part of Sammy wanted to reach down Joey’s throat and poison him with the ink that made up his body. A bigger part of Sammy thought that anything was better than staying trapped in this cold, metal dungeon. After everything he’d gone through, he wanted comfort. He wanted warmth. No matter where it came from. Sammy wrapped his arms around Joey. This might be a little toxic, but it was all he had.


	3. Finale

“Okay, Sammy,” Joey whispered tenderly to his now-inky boyfriend, “here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go home and get some pictures of you. I’m going to put you through the ink machine, and you’ll come out just like you were before, alright? And then we can experiment with the ink machine again, and then go home, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Everything is going to be fine. Alright?”

Sammy spoke the words he words he’d wanted to say since he'd been left here. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you leave me here alone?”

Joey pulled back awkwardly. “Well, to answer your second question, I thought you were dead! I’m ecstatic that you aren’t! And you won’t be sick, now, either! Can you just… not ruin the moment?”

"Okay," Sammy said. It was best not to anger Joey until they’d done the ritual at least.

“See you in a few,” Joey chirped awkwardly before heading out for the pictures.

Right now, Sammy needed Joey to change form and escape this dungeon, but was Sammy going to do after? Well, he supposed, leaving would be difficult for all the same reasons as before. Joey would probably fire him if he left, he had no home, since his paycheques had been going into a joint bank account, getting his money would be a royal pain. But he couldn’t stay. Could he? Stay with the man who had forsaken him like this? Sammy realized then that he still didn’t know why Joey had poisoned him in the first place.

After Joey returned, he directed Sammy to draw up a sacrificial pentagram while he set up the ink machine. Though Joey usually drew the pentagrams as he was the more experienced visual artist, this was a pentagram that Sammy had drawn, to his slight shame, two or three times before. After the last mark was made, Sammy stood back and pondered his handiwork. He’d never once thought about what it was like to lay in one of these. And he couldn’t quite do it, even though he knew what was going on.

“Well? Lie down in it,” Joey ordered.

It was as though Sammy’s body was fighting him as he finally did so. “I think you’ll have to hold me down, Joey. I’m scared.”

“Okay,” Joey replied gently.

Sammy lay on his stomach and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see Joey coming. He could feel Joey’s hand press down on his back and the other one lift up his chin. The cold metal sunk into his inky neck as Joey sliced him ear to ear. It was very unpleasant, but not painful in the sense that it would have been for a human.

The next thing Sammy was aware of was falling out of the ink machine nozzle and straight onto the floor. Joey helped him up and looked him over. “Hmm… perfect! How do you feel, Sammy?”

Sammy looked down at himself. He was himself again, just less detailed and in black and white. He was wearing his favourite outfit, and Sammy pulled on one of the sleeves to find that it had sensation- it was a part of him as much as his fingers. “Alright, I guess.”

“Alright. I’ll let you run the show tonight. Who do you want to sacrifice first?”

“Actually, Joey, I’m not feeling up to it. Can we just go home?”

“Sure,” Joey replied. Sammy didn’t say anything on the way home. He wasn’t thinking particularly hard about anything, either. He was emotionally exhausted and numb. Joey tried to kiss him goodnight, and Sammy complied with it.

The next few days, Sammy would pretty much spend every second he wasn’t at work either moping in his sanctuary or in bed. It’s not as though he needed to eat anymore. The thought of leaving the relationship seemed exhausting. Even things he used to love, like staying out late in his sactuary and playing music, seemed pointless and exhausting. Sammy knew nothing would change until he made it change, but he felt paralyzed.

Three days in, Joey was getting frustrated. This wasn’t fair. Life had given him the false hope that he could get his partner back and then dashed it into pieces by giving him this lifeless waste of space instead. To gain insight on Sammy’s condition, Joey molded one of his ink creations into an Alice for an interview. The ink creature, with Alice’s consciousness in the forefront and a whole 24 hours of life experience, did not report any fatigue or other physical symptoms that could explain Sammy’s behaviour, leading Joey to the frustrating conclusion that Sammy’s issues were purely psychological. Did that mean that Sammy was just permanently broken now?! Well, not if Joey had anything to do about it. He went to their room. “Sammy, you’re getting out of bed this instant,” he demanded. “We’re going out, we’re doing spells, we’re getting drunk, and we’re going to have a night just like we used to have, you hear?”

Sammy didn’t have the energy to fight Joey, but the last thing he wanted was to see Joey drunk or with a powerful tome in his hands. maybe it was irrational, but Sammy wouldn’t have felt safe that way. “Another time,” was all he said.

Joey grabbed Sammy by his collar and attempted to pull him up. It was a pretty pathetic display, since while Sammy was as thin as he had been before his inking, he was now made of dense, heavy ink and weighed almost twice what he used to. Joey settled for turning Sammy to face him. “You are going to be my partner again, you hear?” he growled. “Everything should be going back to normal!” His voice wasn’t a growl now, it sounded desperate. “We got this second chance, I just don’t understand-!” As he said the last word, Joey punched Sammy in the ribs. Sammy wasn’t hurt, not much at least. After a few more frustrated blows, Joey came away with bloody knuckles and Sammy was uninjured. Joey glared at him briefly, a bit of shock in his eyes, before storming off. Sammy could hear the sound of breaking glass and a slamming door.

After a minute of listening to complete silence, Sammy got up and made sure Joey was gone. He found the glass from a wine bottle and pieces of a broken mirror, from where Joey had hurled one against the other, but there was no trace of Joey. The broken mirror reflected the grey tones of Sammy’s body, decorated with Joey’s blood.

_I’m an ink creature. He can’t hurt me._

Sammy checked for signs of Joey once again just to be sure, and then started a hurried job of packing up his things. Sammy knew he was being ridiculous, he felt like a scared animal in his own home- like Joey could be back at any moment. After his things were together, he went through every drawer in the place, gathered all the money he could find, and left. It was a bitterly cold February night, and the cold hurt Sammy worse than it would have hurt him as a human. He wore no coat, because that wouldn’t have helped him anyhow. But the cold did not stiffen his fingers, he did not shiver, and Sammy was certain that it could not kill him. A black car that looked like Joey’s drove by, and Sammy turned away, hoping to hide. _Don’t be stupid,_ Sammy thought to himself. _I can’t hide, and he can’t hurt me. I’m an ink creature._

Sammy stayed at Norman’s that night. The next morning, he quit his job over a call made from a pay phone, and immediately went to the police. It would be a long road to recovery for Sammy, and he would most likely never get his human body back, but after Joey had taken everything from him, he wasn’t allowing him to take a single thing more.


End file.
